The Story of Anna and Stefan
by T.F. Allen
Summary: Jeweler's Shop: In the form of a songfic, Anna wonders if her marriage with Stefan will last.


**Here is a story that has been brewing in me for well over a year. I heard this song, "The Story of Us" by Taylor Swift, and thought, "It's Anna and Stefan!" So here I have finally written what may be the first _Jeweler's Shop_ fanfic on this website, and what is certainly the first _Jeweler's Shop_ songfic. I wanted to be sure I finished it in time for Valentine's Day, as it seems an appropriate story. So, happy Valentine's Day, all!**

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><p><em><strong>The Story of Anna and Stefan<strong>_

"She will get over it."

I could not reconcile myself to those words. A rift had opened between us, a wound in my very being, a wound in my soul.

_I used to think one day we'd tell the story of us  
>How we met and the sparks flew instantly<br>People would say, "They're the lucky ones"_

Stefan had ceased to exist in me, and I in him. He knew it not, but I did. And when finally I confessed to him the grievance that arose in me, he shrugged (in what I'm sure he thought what a supportive gesture), and admitted that he saw nothing wrong.

"This," he casually assured me, "is just the ordinary course of things."

He saw not how I suffered. He saw not the disappointment and disillusionment. He saw not the uneasiness that settled over not only me, but him also, even when we smiled at each other!

_I used to know my place was a spot next to you  
>Now I'm searching the room for an empty seat<br>'Cause lately I don't even know what page you're on_

"She will get over it," he insisted when he thought I could not hear.

I could not reconcile myself to those words. They burned themselves into my soul, filling its emptiness with a far deeper emptiness. I tried time and time again to speak to him, but real words never came.

_Oh, a simple complication  
>Miscommunications lead to fallout<em>

Then, just this morning, as Stefan was leaving, I stumbled, and he ran to me. My heart raced, my soul rose, and my countenance beamed with a brightness it had lacked for so long.

"Oh," he rushed, "will you iron this for me?" Before I even understood, a wrinkled shirt was in my hand, and Stefan had gone. He had not even seen me. I tried to go to the door and call to him, but my feet did not respond to me any more than Stefan.

He saw nothing ill in our marriage – to him, all was as it had been. How could he be so blind?

_So many things that I wish you knew  
>So many walls that I can't break through<em>

He said that he loved me, but I could not see how he showed it. One of us had to be in error, but who? Was it Stefan, in not giving enough? Was it I, in wanting too much? Was there a kind of selfishness in all of this?

_Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking  
>And I'm dying to know – is it killing you like it's killing me?<em>

He must have known what I was going through. It could not be that he did not feel as I did. Yet he left it to me to repair the damages that he spawned. I was left to compromise myself for the sake of his betterment. Is love to be a compromise? Should it not be born continuously out of a struggle for the love of another human being?

Whether Stefan realized the battle or not, he left me to fight it alone.

_I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down  
>And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now<em>

I am not a soldier.

_Next chapter:_

One day, on the way home from work, I passed by the jeweler's shop, as I always did. I recalled that this was the place where Teresa and Andrew had bought their wedding rings. Often Teresa had pondered aloud the words that old man had given her. From what I heard, he seemed a wise man.

It mattered not. He must have retired years ago.

In the past, I paid no attention to the old man's little shop. As I passed this day, however, I looked in at the golden wedding rings that aligned the shelves. How beautiful they were, these symbols of human love and marital faith!

_How'd we end up this way?  
>See me nervously pulling at my clothes and trying to look busy<br>And you're doing your best to avoid me_

I paused outside the shop in thought. That ring which adorned my finger used to hold so great an appeal to me. But that was long ago, back when love seemed something indisputable, a melody played on all the strings of the heart. That melody had declined in pitch, the heart-strings had muted, the song had been lost. We no longer played together, and there was nothing I could do to bring the instruments to play their parts again. Stefan would not help me, or allow me to help him.

_I'm starting to think one day I'll tell the story of us  
>How I was losing my mind when I saw you here<br>But you held your pride like you should've held me_

I felt no guilt. It was not by my fault that we had grown so distant; I had tried to bring us together. Yet the rift in our love seemed to become more and more real, as though it were a fact of our existence. What was to become of us? When was Stefan to see that something was amiss?

_Oh, I'm scared to see the ending  
>Why are we pretending this is nothing?<em>

I had ceased to exist for Stefan, and he had driven himself out of existence in my eyes. I looked again to my wedding ring. I looked again to the jeweler's shop. This time, I decided to walk in. I thought that I might as well sell this ring of mine. Would Stefan notice? I did not think he would. But, perhaps, if he did, there would still be hope for us.

_I'd tell you I miss you, but I don't know how  
>I've never heard silence quite this loud<em>

A confused expression passed over the face of the jeweler when he weighed my ring. He stared at it for a very long time, and then at me. He looked into my eyes, so deeply that I was sure that he could see my very soul.

"This ring does not weigh anything."

At first, I did not believe him. But then he showed to me the scale, which showed not even a milligram. I did not know what to make of this.

"Your husband," he explained to me, "must be alive."

My husband. Stefan. How could I still call him my husband, when he had so abandoned me? How could I still call him my husband, when he treated me as nothing? How could I still call him my husband, when he no longer loved me?

_Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking  
>And I'm dying to know – is it killing you like it's killing me?<em>

"My jeweler's scales have this peculiarity that they weigh not the metal, but man's entire being and fate."

My husband. Stefan. How could this old jeweler know him? How could this old jeweler claim to weigh his "being and fate," as even now he did? Yet, this old jeweler, how could I deny?

He was right.

_I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down  
>And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now<em>

What had I tried to do? Ashamed, I fled the jeweler's shop, and, ashamed, I did not come by that way again for many days. I went a different way home, until one day I passed by the jeweler's shop – to this day I do not know why – and found it closed. I met there a man, a man I did not know, a man whom I had never before met, a man who knew my name. His, I soon learned, was Adam.

Adam asked me about myself, about my life, and about Stefan. Or perhaps he did not ask. Perhaps I merely told. It was a monologue, really, prepared in great detail in my mind.

As we walked, he seemed to understand more and more about me, as though he were not reading my words, but my thoughts and my heart as well. Then we came back to the jeweler's shop.

"Here is the jeweler's shop again," he announced, "soon the Bridegroom will pass by."

Confused, I wondered what he meant. He went on to explain to me the true meaning of love, and I understood later how this revealed the Bridegroom's true name.

"Love" he taught me, "is a synthesis of two people's existence, which converges, as it were at a certain point, and makes them into one."

Why were Stefan and I not so?

A longing awoke in me, a longing for someone perfect, a man firm and good, a man different from Stefan. Different, different…

I wandered the streets, passing man after man. I don't know how it was that I felt ready to try and make every man notice me.

_This is looking like a contest  
>Of who can act like they care less<em>

Some men saw me, others did not. There was one, expensively dressed, about to walk into the most beautiful house I had ever seen.

"One day, darling," Stefan used to say, "I'll buy you a beautiful house, and we'll be beautiful and elegant people."

Stefan had abandoned this dream. He had abandoned me. And now I had abandoned him.

The man saw me. He looked at me a moment, and then spoke.

"Won't you join me?"

I wanted to. But something made me hesitate. The man turned, and began to close the door behind him. Before the chance could pass, I reached out to stop the door handle from latching.

Then a hand stopped mine, and the moment was gone.

"No," Adam pleaded.

_But I liked it better when you were on my side_

Adam spoke further to me, and told a story of ten girls, five wise, and five foolish. I thought I recognized it, and it struck me later that he was retelling the parable of the wise and foolish virgins. That parable spoke to my soul, and I began to understand. I was one of the foolish virgins, sleeping, unaware of the Bridegroom's coming. Why had he woken me?

"The Bridegroom is coming down this street," he warned again and again. "How am I to prove to you that you are the bride?"

_The battle's in your hands now  
>But I would lay my armor down<br>If you said you'd rather love than fight_

"The Bridegroom is coming. This is his precise hour."

And there was the Bridegroom.

He had Stefan's face.

I was afraid of that face.

"You are afraid of love," Adam asked me, almost angrily. "Are you really afraid of love?"

Why did he torment me? Must the Bridegroom have that face for me? Why?

Why?

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><p>I awoke with a start. A strange dream had passed through my mind. I did not know whose it was. I did not feel like my own dream. It was as though I was living in another's nightmare.<p>

I remembered mist. Dark shapes. Eerie lights. Young girls carrying lamps. Ten of them. But one was apart from the others. She was weeping.

The others spoke as one.

"People remain the same. Fate separates them, makes them change, forming no unity."

What did they mean? No unity? It echoed something I had heard that morning, about a rift in our love. No unity? Could that be my marriage? Is that what they meant? Or was it just a dream, a result of reuniting with that old friend Sleep (whom I had been too long neglecting), meaning nothing?

"Two lamps are out. One didn't give its flame to the other."

"One didn't give its oil to the other."

"Didn't give its wick.

"Didn't give its wick, didn't give!

"Two lamps – and the rain…"

What did it mean?

_So many things that you wished I knew  
>But the story of us might be ending soon<em>

What did it mean? Who wasn't giving?

"The night is falling, and he has brought light. He has brought it and taken it away."

I looked out the window. It was still dark. I strained to see what was out there, in the dark. A frightening apparition met my eyes.

There were some of the young girls from my dream. They were dressed in dark robes, all carrying lamps, unlit. They seemed to be searching for something. One pointed at a shop, and the other followed. Confused, I tried to see what sort of a shop it was, and what it might hold.

Oil. They were looking for oil to light their lamps.

But the store was closed, and the girls fled in tears.

_Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking  
>And I'm dying to know – is it killing you like it's killing me?<em>

"He has gone."

Who had gone? Where? What did it mean? Who were those girls? How could they have been there? They were only characters of a nightmare!

Could it all be a sign?

_I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down  
>And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now, now, now<em>

Was it I?

Was I the one not giving the oil to the other? Was the flame truly dying? Was that it? Was it about my marriage?

When had we last spoken to each other? Really spoken?

I couldn't remember.

_And we're not speaking  
>And I'm dying to know – is it killing you like it's killing me?<em>

Had we truly grown apart? Was there a rift in our love?

_I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate 'cause we're going down  
>And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now<em>

Oh, Anna, could you have been right?

Could I have prevented this?

_The end._

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><p><strong>A very special thank you goes to out to you, <strong>**Katie; happy Valentine's Day! Let me know how well I captured your character!**


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